Page 4 of Charming Deception

“Just man the fuck up and open your envelope,” Harlan growls.

I can feel them all watching me.

There’s no way around it; whatever it says in this envelope, I have to complete the challenge. It’s what Granddad wanted.

No matter how difficult or fucking ridiculous it might be.

I have to win the game.

I break Granddad’s wax seal, stamped with an elaborate V for Vance, then tear open the envelope. There’s a card inside. I pull it out and read my challenge.

Just five words.

I read it again. And again.

I take a deep breath in the stretched-silent room, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. Then I stand up calmly and toss the envelope and the card onto the coffee table. They all lean in to read it.

“You can all go fuck yourselves,” I tell them and walk out, Harlan’s dark laughter grating at my spine.

NO SEX FOR NINETY DAYS

Chapter 1

Jameson

You really don’t realize how many times a day/hour/minute you think about sex until you’re trying not to think about sex because you can’t actually have any sex.

“Stop the car.”

I growl the words before I even know I’m going to, and the Bentley rolls to a stop in the middle of the street. Sex has invaded my brain like a thought-numbing toxin.

A woman stands in the street, bent over.

There’s a rolling suitcase at her feet, split wide open. The contents have dumped out onto the pavement, but that’s not what I’m staring at. She’s wearing a soft terra-cotta-colored sundress, the ruffled skirt fluttering around her smooth, bare thighs in the breeze.

“I figured I’d go around, take the next street…” Locke’s gruff voice from the front seat interrupts my staring and I meet his eyes in the rear-view mirror. The woman and her suitcase are blocking the street to the right, where we’d normally turn to reach the street where I live. “But you’re right. We should offer her help.”

It didn’t occur to me to offer her help. The only thing that occurred to me was her bare legs and her drifting hemline.

He’s right, though. And he’s already opening his door.

“Stay here.”

Locke stops as I clear my throat of whatever’s clogging it—lust?—and get out, fastening a button on my suit jacket as I walk over to her. I hear Locke shut his door.

She’s crouched down and has managed to stuff most of her things back into her flimsy-looking suitcase. She’s now tugging on the zipper, which isn’t budging. Maybe she hears my crisp, agitated footsteps on the pavement, because she looks up.

The early-evening sun flashes in her amber eyes. Her long brown hair dances across her face and she tucks the soft waves behind one ear as she gazes up at me, eyes widening.

My jaw clenches.

Irritating. That’s the only word I’ll acknowledge to describe the feeling in my body right now.

“Uh, hi.” Her voice is soft and sexy, which just irritates me more.

“You need help.” I mean it as an offer, but it comes out as a rude observation.

“I’m fine.” She stuffs her things, which are spilling into the street again, back into the broken suitcase. She seems harried, her smile forced, but it still lights up her pretty face.

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